Saturday, February 17, 2007

Maintenance Day in The Land of Me

Between customers (and it's a nice day out and people have come in and I've actually sold books, imagine!) I'm rooting out my studio, an all-day project, in search of paintings in need of labelling. After I finish working on something, I gently add it to the giant pile in the back room to let it dry. Then it sits there for months. I add more, and more. Until something absolutelymust be done. So today, I'm matching up pages in my journals (I make little thumbnail sketches as I paint) with the actual paintings, and writing dates and titles on the backs of the stretchers. It's a trip back in time, sort of, through The Land of Me. Going through my old journals is always - what - funny, at least. I see in September I was reading The Diary of James Schuyler, and I copied this out:

"Three lists - the books I brought to Maine - the books I got in Maine - the books I wish I had brought to Maine." (p.52)

I was also reading the new little volume of James Schuyler's letters to Frank O'Hara, because I noted down this, which I love:

"I never like to write letters after 6 in the evening (it's just 6) - I'm so afraid I may describe the sunset, or mention my aspirations - ..." (p.17)

Next, I find that I read Ron Padgett's terrific book Joe: A Memoir of Joe Brainard, and copied out, among other things, this - one of Joe's word portraits of his friends:

Reading the quotes means I'm discovering the books all over again. Which makes me want to go home and re-read them. Tonight. The paintings - well, some are better than I remembered, some not so. But honest efforts, at least. The journals - I've always kept them, but a few years ago I got hooked on those ubiquitous moleskines (they were Bruce Chatwin's notebooks! that's what did it for me, finally). Back to it - I've got an hour to finish up.